As predicted, our parents came this weekend to stand in our freezing, empty construction-zone of a house, and eat plum cake off of paper plates. Except instead of standing inside eating, November gifted us with an entire weekend of sunny, 60-degree weather. I'm not sure what we were celebrating more, the weather or the house.
Oh, it had to be the house.
Mom #1 brought crostini and salad with dried cranberries. Mom #2 brought a hearty Mushroom and Lentil Pot Pie. We sat on the lawn in folding chairs, eating and drinking. We built an impromptu table from one of my moving crates and a cookie sheet. We built another impromptu table from a kerosene heater and something Patrick hauled out of the garage.
We are family. This is what we do. Together we knew this was only the beginning.
The beginning of the work, yes, that, too. But mostly the beginning of our lives here, gathering in this place to celebrate. To raise our glasses.
It was the perfect start to a legacy of fun family times in this place. Thanks, Moms and Dads, for your good-naturedness and your improvisation, and for remembering all the things that needed to be remembered. Like wine glasses. We love you.
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